


An Tús

by HunterPeverell



Series: A Chuisle Mo Chroí [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asexuality, Books, Bullying, Libraries, M/M, Middle School, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterPeverell/pseuds/HunterPeverell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve first met Bucky, there was no spark, no fireworks. They were thirteen and Steve's first thought was that Bucky was another one of <i>them</i>, a kid who beat everyone up because he could. He looked the type.</p><p>Steve may have had a heart the size of the Empire State Building and pride twice the size of that, but he was still only human.</p><p>He would be glad he gave Bucky a second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Tús

**Author's Note:**

> Title means “The Beginning” in Irish.
> 
> This is part of the same world as Scéal.

It changes in every world, every story. In some universes, they meet when they’re young. Others they meet when they’re older. Some, still, they don’t meet until their twilight years, lines pulling their faces down, eager to sleep beneath the earth.

In this universe, in this story, they meet when they are thirteen.

*

Bucky was technically fourteen, really. He entered school late, he told Steve once, because his mother thought he wasn’t ready for kindergarten yet. Steve, thirteen and small, was not worried about being held back because of his many illnesses. Not yet, anyway, not until high school. When he was thirteen, it was still his mother’s burden to worry over.

Steve got beat up often for being different and for standing up for others. As such, he had only a few friends. There was Michael three grades below him. They befriended one another when Steve, bored and lonely, played with the younger kids after school. Steve didn’t worry about his size, around them, because he was so much bigger than they were. They were wowed with his art and his creative, fun games. Most of those younger kids had drifted off, growing up, but Michael still hung out whenever he and Steve could find the time.

There was Riley, a girl he shared art and math with. They found they enjoyed bantering and working on schoolwork together, but lately she had been mooning over boys more than Steve cared to think about. Steve was of the opinion that they were too young to start dating—wasn’t that something that happened later in high school?

But more often than not, Steve was alone. It made his heart ache, on occasion, when he read about or watched characters with incredible connections to people. Those people were in love with each other and looked happy for it. Steve wondered when he would ever be able to feel that emotion which could tie people to one another.

In most universes, Steve Rogers finds solace—friendship, love, it is all the same in the end—in one James Buchannan Barnes.

In some universes, one walks in the door and the other’s eyes follow them, track them. In others, there is a fight, where one is outnumbered and the other swoops in to save them, whereupon they bond and become inseparable. They see something _different_ in the other, something neither could understand nor comprehend. There is attraction, there are fireworks, there are magical moments wherein life plays out like a rom com, at least for a little while. There are misunderstandings, tempers, stolen kisses. There is a _spark._

Here, though, it starts like this:

When he first saw Bucky, swaggering into class one day with bright steel-blue eyes and shoes that looked new and well-cared for, he wrote him off as another one of _those_ kids, the kind who thought they could beat everyone up.

Steve may have had a heart the size of the Empire State Building and pride twice the size of that, but he was still only human.

“Class, this is James Barnes,” Mrs. Hollins told them.

“Call me Bucky,” the boy said, all smiles. There were a few giggles, but Bucky’s grin only widened.

“Thank you, Bucky,” Mrs. Hollins said, directing him to a seat in the middle of the class a few rows away from Steve. Steve looked him over, decided not to worry about the new kid just yet, and went back to doodling. There was nothing to attract his attention to the boy, nothing that made him pause.

When class started, Steve didn’t spare Bucky a second glance, just turned up his hearing aids and took notes.

A week passed, and Steve never gave Bucky a second look.

At least, not until Bucky sat down next to him during science class. Steve looked up and looked back down, dismissing Bucky from his mind until he made trouble for Steve—which Steve wouldn’t doubt he’d do until Mrs. Campbell called Bucky out on it. No one, not even Jake McDougal, was dumb enough to start a fight in Mrs. Campbell’ science class.

Steve looked over to the table Bucky usually sat at. Kortney Jones was back from being sick. Bucky, being the new kid, had been evicted from her spot.

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky said.

Steve didn’t see if Bucky had extended a hand towards him, just kept his head down, eyes forward. “I know,” he replied. There was little doubt in his mind that Bucky knew his name—Steve had gotten into a fight three days ago when he caught some seventh grader trying to flush one of their fellows in a toilet. Steve hadn’t been suspended, but he had been the object of gossip for the day after.

Bucky pulled out his notebook, a mechanical pencil, and the homework packet. He placed the homework off to the side, the notebook in front, flipped open to the next blank page.

Steve already had all of those out. Neither he nor Bucky had anything to say to one another.

Science class was spent in silence.

*

Steve and Bucky didn’t talk to one another for a few months, and Bucky never sat with Steve again during science class. Fall Break came and passed them by, and Bucky still hung out with the kids who continued to pick on Steve. Riley was busy with her new (tentative) boyfriend, and Steve saw her even less than he normally did. Michael was still available most days, but Steve had begun avoiding him during school hours. Michael was in fifth grade going on sixth, and in the K-8th grade school, Steve knew the other middle schoolers were looking at the incoming sixth graders, wondering who was going to be worth something. Steve didn’t want to drag Michael down, though Michael protested.

“You’re my friend, Steve.” Michael had big, brown eyes. He was small for his age, only reaching Steve’s shoulder.

“They don’t care about that,” Steve said as gently as he could. “They never care about that.”

Steve didn’t consider Bucky a friend. Whenever Bucky’s clique teased Steve, Bucky did nothing, just looked uncomfortable near the back of the group. Steve didn’t fault Bucky for this—it was middle school; they were young teenagers. Peer pressure was alive and kicking.

He did, however, notice that Bucky would pick up his backpack from wherever Steve had dropped it and hide it. Steve would find it under some bushes a few feet away, a couple of band aids tucked inside.

Steve didn’t consider Bucky a friend, but he didn’t consider him to be an enemy, either.

*

In fact, them becoming friends had no spark to it. It happened gradually, over time.

Bucky lived in Steve’s neighborhood, a few blocks away. Steve had seen him with whatever girlfriend of the week he had strolling past the crappy arcade or peering into the window front of a DVD store.

This time, however, they were walking back home from school. Steve usually came by late to avoid most of the crowds. His mom wouldn’t be home, anyway—she’d be at work until eight that night. For whatever reason, Bucky was heading back at that time, too. He was behind Steve by several yards—Steve hadn’t seen or heard him until he felt someone fall into step beside him.

Steve looked over at Bucky, who shot him a slightly strained smile.

Steve didn’t know what to say and so he focused on the sidewalk in front of him. He didn’t know Bucky, but he didn’t think the other boy would pick a fight here, now.

“Y’know,” Bucky began. “Cindy’s been giving you a second look.”

Steve thought about _Cindy,_ who was only dark hair and green eyes in his mind. She had a smattering of pimples and an expander, but she was pretty. She didn’t hang out with Bucky’s group, but in a group one step lower on the food chain.

However, that still didn’t explain what Bucky was going on about. Steve dragged his eyes away from the sidewalk and frowned at Bucky, who was looking at Steve with anticipation.

“What?” Steve asked. Bucky continued looking, only glancing around a bit to make sure he wouldn’t bump into something. Steve was beginning to feel annoyed. “I don’t think I get what you mean,” he said instead.

Bucky blinked but said, bluntly, “She wants to kiss you.”

Steve tried to imagine himself kissing Cindy, with her dark hair and her green eyes and her wide smile, and found himself instead awkwardly kissing a faceless stranger. He could no more force Cindy’s likeness on the fleshy creature than he could make the track team.

“Oh,” he said when he realized Bucky expected him to say something. “Okay.”

Bucky looked at him for a moment, but let it slide. “What do you think about the principal, huh? My last one was a real hard-ass, but Mr. Burns seems pretty okay.”

“He is,” Steve agreed. “He’s only been here for two years, though. The principal before that was way worse.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, grinning slightly. Steve found himself smiling back.

“Yeah. He didn’t actually do anything for the school. I think they fired him because he wasn’t doing nothin’.”

Bucky snickered. “That’s awesome.”

“It wasn’t,” Steve said, and he didn’t sound like he was arguing, to his relief. “God, he was useless.”

Bucky gave another laugh before waving to Steve and peeling away, taking his own route home.

Steve didn’t wave back, just returned his gaze to the sidewalk and thought about what he wanted for dinner.

*

Bucky didn’t walk back home with Steve again—it was getting colder out, and Steve still left at least half an hour after the rest of the crowds did—but he did start distracting his friends from teasing Steve. Steve didn’t mind, really. He went home with fewer cuts and bruises and got to see the relief in his mother’s eyes.

Bucky’s distractions were clever, actually. Once he brought a Gameboy to school but didn’t tell anyone until it looked like Steve was going to be harassed. Then he whipped it out and told everyone about it loudly. His friends abandoned Steve in favor of whatever cool game Bucky had. Steve didn’t care—video games had never been his thing. He got bored of them easily.

Sometimes Bucky would bring in new games for his device or other times he would bring in magazines for the girls who, when they left, meant there was no one to jeer on the guys. Steve would find himself alone when the boys around him decided they had a chance at winning the girls’ attention back with kickball or basketball.

Steve never thanked Bucky and Bucky never looked at Steve.

*

Over Winter Break, fresh snow fell almost every night. Frost crept across the glass in fragmented patches and Steve could see his body’s heat curling before his eyes every time he let out a breath.

His mother still had work and so whenever they ran out of food or milk, Steve had to go to the store himself. His mother worried about it, about him, but Steve always assured her that he was fine. He was a teenager—he could make it the five blocks to the store and back if it meant he wouldn’t go hungry. He used the money she left him.

“Be careful, leanbh,” she would whisper to him.

“I will,” he promised her. “You be safe, too.”

Today they were out of cereal, fish oil, and toaster waffles. Steve donned his heavy winter jacket—which was now getting a bit small for him—as well as his hat, mittens, scarf, and boots. He stuffed the money into an inner pocket and braved the weather outside.

It wasn’t too bad, all things considered. It was the afternoon and the sky was covered with white-grey clouds. It was freezing, but it would have been more so if the sky had been clear. Cars trundled down the street and a few people hurried past him, intent on getting indoors. Steve stuffed his hands in his pockets and bent his head, tucking his cold nose into his scratchy woolen scarf.

The store was a block away from his school, so he was familiar with the route there. He knew a few of the store owners as well, and they let him duck into their stores if he spotted any bullies headed his way.

Steve didn’t like bullies, but he tried to avoid a fight when he could. If they weren’t picking on anyone, Steve let them be.

That was how he ran into Bucky.

“Hey, dude,” Bucky said, cheerful. Steve watched the way Bucky’s breath misted from his mouth, curling banners of smoke. “Whatcha up to?”

“Store,” Steve said, pulling his face out of his scarf so Bucky could hear him clearly.

Bucky bounded up next to him. Like Steve, he was decked out in cold weather gear. A grey knit hat sloped against his head, shielding his ears, and a red scarf nestled just inside his big black coat.

“Awesome,” Bucky said. “My mom kicked me out for a couple’a hours.”

“What? Why?” Steve’s ma would never do that, on account of Steve easily catching any illness thrown his way. Maybe normal, healthy kids could stand the weather better than him.

“Well, I may have accidentally turned on the wrong stove and burned all our bread,” Bucky said. “I gotta go get more, then she wants me outta her sight ‘til she don’t feel like whacking me with a spoon anymore.”

Steve bit back a laugh. “Where were you going to go?”

“The library?” Bucky said.

“Cool,” Steve said. “Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”

“Now wait a minute,” Bucky protested. “I learn plenty!”

“Sure you do, leathcheann,” Steve teased, repeating what he heard his ma utter under her breath whenever she has to deal with particularly stubborn people.

Bucky squinted at him. “I got a feelin’ you weren’t calling me handsome.”

Steve re-tucked his lower face behind his scarf to hide his smile.

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the store where they split up, Steve to collect his motely selection of foods—he bought hot chocolate packets and instant heating pads in addition to his list—and Bucky for his bread.

Steve took longer than Bucky, and so he didn’t expect to see Bucky waiting for him just past the checkout.

“Hey,” Steve said, walking up to Bucky. Bucky grinned at him, the plastic bag twisting around his fingers carelessly.

“Hey,” Bucky echoed and turned for the cold outdoors. Steve followed warily.

“So,” Bucky said. “Think the fact that I got my mom a pack of cinnamon gum will make any difference?”

“No,” Steve said.

“Damn it,” Bucky muttered. “I had hoped it would.”

“A packet of gum for burning all the bread,” Steve said. “Yeah, sure, what a great trade off.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” Bucky protested.

Steve laughed, and for some reason Bucky looked smug.

“Hey,” Bucky said as they neared his street. “It was great talking with you. Sorry ‘bout Jake McDougal last week.”

Jake had cornered Steve near a row of lockers outside the second grader’s classroom and had pushed Steve to the ground, keeping him there and laughing at him until the teacher had come outside the classroom to investigate the noise.

Steve’s chest still felt slightly sore, but he shrugged.

“It happens,” he said.

Bucky looked at him out of the corner of his eye and muttered, “I’m beginning to get that.”

Steve didn’t ask him what he meant.

Bucky paused at the turn that led to his home. Steve switched hands to hold his bag and stuck his cold hand into his pocket, waiting for Bucky to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

“Look—just—” Bucky frowned. “I’m sorry they treat you that way.”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah well, we’re teenagers. We’re stupid.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, hunching in on himself. “You’re kinda fun, y’know?”

Steve had been told he was fun before, but that was usually by younger kids. “Thanks.”

Bucky jerked his head in a nod and turned off down the street, heading home. Steve looked after him for a moment before doing the same.

*

When Steve next saw Bucky, it was a few days later and Steve was heading to the library to return a book he had borrowed and find something new to read. It was his ma’s day off, and she was sleeping for a few hours. When Steve got back in a few hours, they were going to curl up on the couch and watch whatever was on.

The library was closer than the store, only three blocks, and so Steve got there quickly. It was still cold out, but it was snowing lightly, which meant that it was again warmer than it could be.

Steve hurried up the steps of the library and slipped his borrowed book into the appropriate slot before entering.

The library was a small thing, with big windows and lots of lights. The books were organized according to age first, genre second. Steve headed to the adult section—he’d grown tired of the kid book section in first grade, when all the books had few words and big pictures.

Bucky was there, tucked into a corner with a book on his lap.

“Hi,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky blinked and looked up. Steve couldn’t see the cover of the book, but Bucky seemed absorbed.

“Hi,” Bucky said. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for a book,” Steve said. “I just returned _The Adventures of Huckleberry Fin._ ”

Bucky shifted, and Steve caught a glimpse of the book he was reading— _Conan the Barbarian._

“Want some help?” Bucky asked.

“You offering?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I am.”

“Alright,” Steve said, lifting his chin. “What’s your favorite book?”

Bucky immediately looked serious, which Steve appreciated. Bucky put his book down and stood up, looking at the shelves.

“Let’s see,” Bucky said, making an abortive gesture with his hands as he read the spines, as if he wanted to take all of them down. “What have you read?”

“Uh,” Steve said. “I get sick a lot. I read a bunch, though I draw more. Maybe we should just try stuff and I’ll let you know if I’ve read it.”

Bucky nodded and tapped one book. “ _The Chronicles of Narnia?_ ”

“Read it,” Steve said.

“You like fantasy, right?” Bucky checked, looking at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

“Hell yes,” Steve told him. Bucky grinned, wide and bright. Steve smiled in return.

“Have you read _Fairest?_ ” Bucky asked, pulling one book out. “Read any Gail Carson Levine?”

“I read _Ella Enchanted,_ ” Steve admitted. “But nothin’ else.” He tried to avoid those books, mostly because the other kids thought they were girl books. Steve avoided them so he had one less thing to be bullied over, yet here was Bucky, offering one of the girly books to him. Steve remembered _Ella Enchanted_ and how much the world had thrilled him. He wondered if her other works were as good.

“You’ll like this,” Bucky told him, handing the book over. Steve looked down at the cover, where a girl hid her face partially behind a mirror.

“Thanks,” Steve said, flipping it over to read the back. There was a silent pause, and Steve looked up to see Bucky looking at him. “What?”

Bucky ducked his head, embarrassed. “It’s just… My friends would make fun of that book. It’s, like, fairytales and princesses and shit. It’s not what I’m supposed to read.”

Steve felt something flutter in his chest. Shared _understanding_ , he suspected.

“I always thought that was stupid.” Steve shrugged, self-conscious. “You like what you like. I ain’t gonna say anything against it.”

Looking back, Steve thought that was when Bucky really decided to give little sickly Steve Rogers a chance. Steve would remember the look Bucky gave him—part disbelief, part amusement—and think _that was it._

At the moment, though, he just sat down on the other end of the nook seat Bucky had been sitting on and opened the book. Bucky followed him, and soon the two of them were immersed in their respective novels.

Steve felt for Aza. She wasn’t the kind of person people would look twice at, like Steve. Her gifts were hidden. Sometimes Steve wished his life was like a fairytale, so that he could show people who he was, inside.

When he said goodbye to Bucky an hour later, each heading their own separate way, Steve felt the book tucked under his arm and smiled to himself.

He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Bucky disappear behind a corner.

*

After that, Steve and Bucky ran into each other at the library more often. There they would find a book and alternate between reading, sharing some passage in the book they found to be hilarious, and talking about their lives.

The third time this happened, Steve found Bucky sitting in their usual nook, a book already picked out.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky greeted, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” Steve said before he blinked. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that was the first time Bucky had ever said his name.

“Got an awesome book here,” Bucky said, bringing it up and holding it out to Steve. “ _Ender’s Game._ ”

Steve had seen it, but never read it. He took it and glanced at Bucky’s book of the week— _Murder on the Orient Express._

“Thanks,” Steve said, sitting down on his usual spot. He opened the page before realizing he couldn’t hear Bucky doing the same. He looked up to find Bucky looking at him. “What is it?”

“School starts up soon,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. Christmas had been last week. He had a new scarf, which he wore whenever he had to go outside because it was soft against his skin, as well as a new sketch pad and books. He cherished each and had planned to tell Bucky about them sometime today.

Bucky fidgeted. “I don’t … hanging out with you is fun. I don’t wanna give that up.”

Steve knew how school politics worked. “I don’t run in the same circles as you, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed and nodded. “Can we still do library every Saturday?” he asked softly.

Steve looked down at his book, which Bucky had picked out for him like he had the last three times they met up.

“Yeah,” he decided. “Yeah, we can.”

Steve didn’t feel butterflies in his stomach when Bucky positively beamed at him, but he felt warm and content, knowing that he had made a new friend in that moment.

*

When they went back to school, however, it was clear their plan wasn’t going to hold. Bucky couldn’t stand the teasing Steve underwent each day and spoke out against it more and more until he almost picked a fight with Casey Jones, Kortney’s twin brother, when Casey tried to push Steve into a broken patch of the wire fence surrounding the playground.

“Knock it off!” Bucky roared, trying to attract the teacher’s attention. It was a no-go, Steve could tell—one of the seventh graders had fallen off the swings and was kicking up a fuss, and Steve and the group were all the way out in the field.

“Seriously, Buck?” Casey demanded. “It’s just Steve!”

“Yeah, and this is ridiculous,” Bucky said. “You’re gonna hurt him!”

“If you care so much, why don’t you just fucking join him?” Casey shouted. The rest of the group was looking between Casey and Bucky, unsure about what to do or where they stood.

“Maybe I will,” Bucky said. “Maybe I will because he’d sure be better company than _you_. C’mon, Steve.” Steve took the proffered hand and struggled to his feet. Bucky shouldered past Casey, Steve in tow, and headed for the building. Steve didn’t look behind him, but he could hear the furious whispers of Bucky’s old friends.

“We didn’t even last a week,” Steve grumbled. Bucky slowed his stride so he could walk next to Steve.

“I didn’t expect to,” Bucky admitted as they reached the basketball court. “They just … Steve, they treat you like crap.”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said. “I know.”

Bucky’s face crumpled, which wasn’t what Steve wanted to see. “God, I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve blinked. “Um, for what?”

Bucky sighed and kicked at the broken blacktop. “For not getting rid of ‘em sooner. I wasn’t ever comfortable with what they did, but I didn’t stop ‘em.”

Steve reached out and touched Bucky’s arm. Bucky, startled, looked over and met Steve’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “Really.”

Bucky smiled, but it was small.

“Anyway,” Steve said. “You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”

“The pain,” Bucky groaned, flopping the back of his hand dramatically over his forehead. “The pain, the woe, the _misery._ ”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed. “You’re gonna have to get used to my ugly mug.”

“It ain’t ugly,” Bucky said. “Just scrawny.”

Steve shoved him. He was smaller than Bucky, but not by much. Bucky swayed a little, his grin settling back on his face like Steve had hoped.

Steve grinned back.

**Author's Note:**

> Leathcheann - Half-wit.
> 
> Comments and Kudos bring me joy!


End file.
